


Captains and Lost Boys and Saviours, Oh My!

by CyberjenicPanda



Series: Let's have a chat, Love [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Great Ambiance, Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Neverland Is A Wonderful Place, Neverland Renaissance (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21767341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberjenicPanda/pseuds/CyberjenicPanda
Summary: “His eyes widened a fraction as recognition dawned on him, and he had half a mind to kick himself for his foolishness, but more importantly for not warning her. How he could have possibly missed the connection earlier was mind boggling.Emma could hear the lost boys, too.”Peter Pan was wrong about one thing, Emma wasn't the only one able to hear the lost boys’ cries.*Set just before Emma and Pan’s conversation in 3x02*
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: Let's have a chat, Love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527356
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Captains and Lost Boys and Saviours, Oh My!

**Author's Note:**

> Knowing what we know now about Killian’s backstory, the idea that he wouldn't have been able to hear the lost boys is, frankly, kinda silly, so this is a sort of fix-it for that.

The wails of the lost boys punctuated the calm of the night, and he tried to suppress a shiver as a particularly heart-wrenching cry split through the air. He had always wondered if he had ever unknowingly heard Baelfire at night, or whether the boy had been too stubborn to let the island know of his pain. It didn’t matter, he supposed, it was both a very long time ago and irrelevant to the task at hand. Not to mention that none of the others could hear it, so even if he wanted to muse on his thoughts (not that the others would converse with him on such a subject) they would be of little help. At that he looked around the small band of ‘heroes’, well, mostly heroes, he thought with a smirk as his eyes laid on the Evil Queen. This group was definitely a motley one at that, but they had all been brought together by the saviour, so cooperation it was. As was what happened in most instances that he had a moment to think, his thoughts wandered to Emma, as did his eyes. She looked stressed, was the first thought that crossed his mind, her shoulders hunched as she glared at the fire, absentmindedly poking it on occasion. He had half a mind to go over and give her a few words of reassurance, but one glance at her father had him re-thinking that strategy (not that she would be welcome(receptive?) to hear such words from him anyways). So, he instead settled on subtly watching her out of the corner of his eye, turning his head enough so that her father couldn’t see him looking. He’d like to keep both his eyes, thank you very much. The cries filled the air with renewed vigour, and he only hoped that they could get to her boy before his voice joined them, when he saw her flinch in time with an ear splitting cry that would have had him flinching too had he not had centuries to get used to it. His eyes widened a fraction as recognition dawned on him, and he had half a mind to kick himself for his foolishness, but more importantly for not warning her. How he could have possibly missed the connection earlier was mind boggling. Emma could hear the lost boys, too.

He stared at her a little more openly, and as if she realised she was being watched she broke her gaze from the fire to meet his eyes. One swift jerk of his head away from the camp was all he needed to say before she gave him a slight nod. He had no doubt that she thought he wanted to talk about something Henry-rescue-mission related, and, while it sort of was, he also hoped he wouldn’t overstep any bounds she had placed around herself. Pushing himself to his feet, ignoring the immediate wary look sent his way from Charming, he muttered, “We’re running low on firewood, I’d best collect some more.” Before he’d even got the last word out, Emma had sprung to her feet, trying her best to not look like she had been anticipating his words. 

“I’ll come with, give you a  _ hand. _ ” Hook almost wanted to snort at her words, oh, if only he had a silver for every time he had heard that. He probably could have bought the Dark One's dagger off of him. Nonetheless, he bowed at her offer, if only to extract another particularly heated glare from the prince. 

“As you wish, milady.” He thought about sending a suggestive smirk her father’s way as well, but ultimately decided against it as he left the clearing, he rather still have teeth to be able to talk to Emma. They trudged through the jungle, collecting branches as they went, and before long they had moved a ways from the camp, far enough that they wouldn’t be eavesdropped on. Seeming to sense his want to talk, Emma slowed and leaned against a boulder to rest, trying to mask her tension as more cries filled the night. 

“What do you want, Hook?” she started with little preamble, and for half a second he almost forgot why he had asked her to follow him into the jungle. Almost. 

“You can hear them too, can’t you?” he tried to keep his voice neutral, but he knew something in his voice betrayed him as her head snapped up, eyes fixing him with an intense look.

“Wait, you can hear it? I thought I’d started imagining things, none of the others seem to be able to hear it.” He looked at her curiously, surely she must know? He knew that her land had tales of him, Peter Pan, and the lost boys, so how could she not know? A silent sigh of annoyance left him, doesn’t matter if one knows about something if they happen to be in denial about it. 

“Aye, but I don’t imagine the others being able to anytime soon.” He half turned away from her, absentmindedly fiddling with his hook, while her head tilted in the picture of confusion. Strangely endearing confusion.

“What do you mean?” Now it was his turn to be confused, she sounded genuinely at a loss, and his eyebrows climbed in surprise. 

“Surely you know?” A brief yet hesitant shake of her head gave her answer. His own head tilted in confusion now, perhaps she really didn't know? It still had little bearing on her denial of matter, however. “Only those who had the potential to become lost boys can hear their wails.” He smirked despite himself as he gestured with his hook at her. “Or, as I guess it would be in your case - lost  _ girls. _ ” A look of momentary shock passed over her face as she processed the new information, however it quickly faded into disbelief as she shook her head at him, blonde hair rippling around her in such a way that he ached to reach out and smooth it back down. 

“That’s impossible, how can I hear it? I have my parents now. I’m not a lost anything anymore.” Her arms crossed in front of her, almost instinctively, as if to put another barrier in between her and the conversation that she didn't want to have (but not enough to outweigh her curiosity).

“Once a lost boy, always a lost boy, as they say.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’m just telling you what I have come to know, love.” They were both silent for a long stretch, her seeming to mull over his words, while he simply didn't want to break the momentary calm. Finally she looked back up at him from where she had been examining her boots, an inquisitive gaze in her eyes.

“So, you brought me out here, to what? Explain another one of this island’s hellish features?”  _ Because I wanted to know if you were alright, because I know first hand just how jarring it can be. _

“Aye, also to give you a fair warning. Though in hindsight I realise now I should have mentioned it  _ before _ nightfall.” Another shrug accompanied his words, and he tried to give her a small, apologetic smirk.

“Would have been helpful, yes. I was convinced we were about to be attacked.” A huff of dry laughter left her, devoid of anything that could possibly be labeled as amusement. He could see the question burning just behind her eyes, the one that she wanted to ask, but was clearly hesitant to do so. Swan wanted to know why he could hear the lost boys. Another, smaller (and often ignored) part of her also wanted to know his reasonings for taking her out into the jungle for the conversation. Was he just trying to warn her? Did he want to talk about it? Why take her away from the others? To save her the embarrassment? To comfort her in private? To not draw unwanted attention to their conversation? He could see the questions swirling just behind her eyes, but he knew she would not ask them, and he would not answer even if she did. They two of them were walking a fine enough line as it was, no need to potentially upset the tentative balance they had achieved with talks of past childhood traumas. He shook his head mentally, it would do him no good to dwell on such things. A slight cough brought Swan’s eyes back up to his from where they had resumed their thoughtful study of the ground. He bowed slightly.

“My apologies, Swan. I shall endeavour next time to assuage your fears  _ before _ it presents itself as a problem.” And with that, he turned around and left her behind, the sticks still gathered loosely in his arms. He thought he could feel her stare on his back as he retreated further into the jungle back towards the camp, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part. 

(It wasn't.)


End file.
